


Winter's Last Chill

by MorganRay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Remus Lupin, Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Child Abandonment, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Healing, Horror, International Travel, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Parent Death, Pre-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus's family ruined his ability to have functional relationships, Sad with a Happy Ending, Werewolves, Young Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-07 09:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15216416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganRay/pseuds/MorganRay
Summary: While the Triwizard Tournament is underway at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin journeys to Sweden on a mission that concerns his past. In that country, winter hangs on even as the celebration for spring, Walpurgis Night, approaches. In the soul, winter can cling, too, as Remus knows. However, even the faintest rays of spring can thaw a deep frost. Remus deals with his dysfunctional father, a growing rift between him and Sirius, and his mother's death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Lilacs**

The gilded hand ticked across the face of the ancient grandfather clock perched in the corner of the office where dust flitted through sunbeams. The room was underground, but the wall opposite the doorway had three small windows with shafts above ground that allowed jets of light to pass into the office. The faint light managed its way through the layers of dust and splayed across the oak desk cluttered with rolls of parchment and stacks of paper. These rays illuminated the purple bags under the eyes, along with every care-worn line on the face of the man who sat in the lone chair across from the desk.

The faint sunbeams highlighted every graying hair on the head of Remus Lupin as he sat patiently, waiting for the door to reopen behind him. He stared past the wall, quite bored with the room and its empty walls. The only real fixtures were the desk and the grandfather clock that slowly ticked away the seconds as the gilded pendulum swung back and forth in a never-ending rhythm.

Eventually, there was a creaking as the wooden door swung slowly open and a man with a thick silver beard, yet completely bald, walked into the room. He wore a flowing, black robe that touched the ground, sweeping up the layer of dust on the floor and a dapper, black suit, complete with an elegant, silver cane with the engraving of a bear’s head on the top.

‘ _It’s probably an heirloom_ ,’ Remus mused as he viewed the ornamental cane that he conjectured the man could walk without. The old gentlemen walked silently over to the desk and added the pieces of parchment he held onto the mountainous stack already there.

“The Wizarding government of Sweden would officially like to welcome you to our country, Mr. Lupin.” There was no cheer or sincerity in the greeting as the man shuffled through the papers on his desk and drew his wand out of his deep robe pocket. In his dry, weary voice that fit the dusty room, he ordered, “Take out your wand.”

Remus did what he was told and extended his ten-and-a-half inch, willow wand to the man. The man gave it two taps. Two long, colored stripes appeared tip to tip on the wand, as if they’d been burned there. Instead of being singed black, the stripes had burned gray and green.

“Your luggage is being checked. A personal assistant will acclimate you to your surroundings and the situation at hand.” Here, the man paused as he gave Remus his wand back. His serious stare locked onto Remus’s eyes. “I will make myself clear; you have a limited time to attend to your business here.”

“I read the papers,” Remus replied casually, yet he felt no warmth from this man. ‘ _I’m surprised they let me in_ ,’ Remus thought with no joy or mirth. This was a mission: a duty that he needed to perform.

The man gestured Remus towards the door and he obediently stood and walked into the hallway before him as he stowed his wand into the pocket of his tattered, gray robe. The old man closed the door and followed behind him. The hallway outside had the same stuffy feel as the little room, and there were no other doors there except the one Remus had just walked through.

After ages of walking through the hallway, listening to his own footsteps, Remus reached the end, which opened up into a wide, domed lobby. There were two sets of fireplaces, each with a mantel that housed a jar of Floo powder like in the Ministry of Magic that Remus was familiar with seeing. However, the dome above was similar to the artificial ceiling at Hogwarts and reflected the sky of a peaceful summer day, complete with cotton-ball clouds.

On the other side of the room, by a set of oak doors with silver engravings of words, Remus couldn’t read, stationed a sturdy, oak desk about twice the length of a man. Various items were piled upon the desk and the people coming through the fireplaces were checking their wands and other belongings there before proceeding through the huge doors that led to the rest of the Ministry.

“Greger!”

Remus viewed the man who shouted the greeting as the two emerged from the hallway. The young man wore a pinstriped, red wine colored suit that had the potential to look absolutely ridiculous. However, on the tall, yet muscularly lean young man, who seemed to be made for the crimson red suit, it looked slightly stylish. Running the entire length of both his jacket and pants, the suit had gray stripes that ended at his immaculately polished, black shoes 

‘ _Personnel_ ,’ Remus thought as he warily eyed the grinning young man who exuded an aura of youthful enthusiasm. His look was completed with an ebony, suede bowling hat that seemed to absorb all light that might reflect off it. Also, from the sides of the man’s head protruded platinum-blond hair.

“Mr. Remus Lupin, this is Bjorn Asketorp, who will be your adjustment guide and will secure your luggage back in your possession,” the older man replied blandly as he gave the youth a withering look.

As he reached them, Bjorn’s already exuberant face split into a genuinely friendly smile, revealing his immaculate teeth. “You introduce me so blandly. Mr. Lupin, pleased to meet you.”

Before he could react, Remus’s hand was wrenched from his side in a vigorous handshake. Remus returned a polite, business-like smile to the friendly youth.

“Mr. Asketorp, you read the papers from London, I assume?” Greger’s tone had gone from bland to a stiff air of annoyance. Remus looked between the two men, noticing that Greger seemed to react as if rotting food had been placed under his nose.

Bjorn gave Greger a careless wave of his hand as he motioned Remus to follow him. “Can’t wait to see you again,” Bjorn called cheerfully over his shoulder as he strode in front of Remus towards the long desk by the oak doors. He reached his hand in the enormous stack of suitcases and picked out Remus’s tattered one.

“This way,” Bjorn called chipperly to Remus as he strode briskly over to one of the fireplaces, suitcase still in his hand. Remus looked at the suitcase as he arrived at the fire. His eyes were level to Bjorn’s cheek and nose. Bjorn tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace as he called out, “Adelsvård Restaurant and Pub!”

  
Flames erupted and turned green. Bjorn gestured to Remus to go first. Remus ducked to avoid the low mantel and stepped into the flames. In a whirl of soot and flame, he arrived in another fireplace with huge stones that may have once sat on the bottom of a riverbed. Remus stepped out as Bjorn followed right behind him. Both men dusted themselves off, and then Bjorn walked confidently forward as if he was very familiar with the place.

‘ _Right into the lounge_ ,’ Remus realized as he looked over at the group of people giving their names to the waitress who had her hair tied up in a bun and was wearing a flowing, plum dress with long sleeves. She ushered them through the stone arch and into the interior, where Bjorn had confidently strode moments before.

‘ _He still has my suitcase_ ,’ Remus reminded himself as he quickly darted through the arch and caught up to Bjorn. The youthful Swede gestured Remus to take a seat at the three-legged barstool on his right. Remus sat down and stared around at the elegant decor of beautiful, thick, plum drapes the color of the waitresses’ dresses. All the furniture was varnished a rich shade of mahogany and white candles burned at every table, illuminating all the deep colors.

One of the waitresses, with her plum dress and neatly tied up hair, came over and asked, “What will it be?”

“The usual,” Bjorn told her offhandedly. She then turned to Remus.

“Butterbeer?” Remus asked tentatively, thinking of the only sort of semi-alcoholic beverage he drank. The waitress gave a nod and went off to fetch their drinks. Remus stared down and studied the grain of the bar, which had been varnished in the same rich, mahogany color as the rest of the wood.

“Greger didn’t put you off, did he? The old chap does that occasionally.” Remus stared up as Bjorn spoke to him and gave a deft nod as he met the young man’s watery blue eyes that sparkled with a certain light that only belongs to the young.

“Nothing a drink won’t cure,” Remus replied. Bjorn chuckled at his comment. “I couldn’t possibly think the two of you are related, though.”

“Hmm, picked up on that one?” Bjorn asked as he gave Remus a nod. “There are lots of similar names in Sweden, but we’re the only wizard family who has the name Asketorp. It’s interesting how it turns out, though, with personality. My grandfather and I are polar opposites, although he chooses to be crotchety about it.”

‘ _Crotchety might be an understatement_ ,’ Remus decided as he remembered Greger Asketorp’s aloof and snobby attitude towards him and distinct disdain for his grandson. At that moment, the waitress brought one glass of red wine and a mug of butterbeer over to the two men.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can get for you,” she replied politely as she flashed them a smile and strode off to wait on another customer. Remus took a sip of his drink, looking out of the corner of his eye as Bjorn took a tiny sip of his wine.

Bjorn took a second taste of his wine. “This will never stain my suit,” Bjorn joked as Remus sat down his mug. Both men sat silently and drank for a couple moments before Bjorn set down his wineglass and waited for Remus to swallow his drink.

“Your papers said you taught at Hogwarts for a year,” Bjorn began amiably. Remus felt the slight boost in his mood drop for a second, knowing every little detail that was on those papers that had been sent from London. He’d verified them all in the stifling office of Greger Asketorp, under whose strict gaze Remus had been silent. “The roof inside our Ministry is a copy of the Hogwarts’s ceiling, although I’ve never seen it myself. We don’t mimic the real weather, of course, but always keep it a beautiful, blue sky.”

“It’s the first copy I’ve seen,” Remus replied as he took another sip of his drink. He put down his mug. On cue, Bjorn launched into more conversation.

“I heard they’re hosting the Triwizard this year,” Bjorn said as he locked his bright eyes with Remus’s eyes, which were the color of fresh mud. “It’s something I would’ve liked if I’d been seventeen.”

“It’s dangerous.” Deciding to not make another comment, Remus took another sip of his butterbeer. The subject of Hogwarts’s strange happenings at the Triwizard, with Harry as the fourth champion, didn’t settle well in Remus’s mind.

“Sweden finally got its own school, which is celebrating its twentieth birthday this coming year.” Remus stared over at Bjorn, whose voice swelled with great pride at this point. Remus nodded for Bjorn to continue, glad to have the conversation pass from his personal life and occupation.

“The Lårling School of Wizardry, outside of Stockholm, is relatively new compared to the older schools like Hogwarts, but it has gained enrollment in the past decade. I went there myself, and was planning on returning for the festivities next year,” Bjorn informed Remus, who listened to his host’s enthusiastic explanation of his school with slight nods to urge him to continue. “The school’s not that large, and of course, it’s hidden with magical charms from Muggle eyes and looks like a very large, crumbling farm manor, but it’s large enough to house a Quidditch court. The Swedish ministry has adopted a form of test similar to NEWTS, although we give the test in the fourth year. From fifth-year forward, we’re separated into smaller lodgings outside of the main manor depending on how well we did on what area. My expertise was in Charms.”

  
At this point, Bjorn stopped his speech and took a small sip of his wine. Remus rested both of his arms on the bar top, although he didn’t prop himself up on his elbows.

“As I was saying, our school’s not old. Many people were educated abroad or privately before the Ministry set up our school,” Bjorn continued with unflagging enthusiasm.

“The Ministry has control over your teachers and headmasters, then?” Remus interrupted Bjorn, who paused with his mouth open to speak again. He recovered and then began to answer Remus’s question.

“Yes. They don’t directly elect the Headmaster, per se, but they evaluate all teacher selections.” At this, Remus involuntarily felt a frown come over his face. ‘ _Not a good policy_ ,’ Remus privately thought of his own special appointment that wouldn’t have happened under government regulations.

“I’ve never had a problem with a teacher. I’ve found most of the faculty quite ready to help me,” Bjorn replied as he took another sip of wine. Remus took another gulp of his butterbeer and both men finished swallowing and set down their mugs roughly about the same time, which had become the general cue for Bjorn to strike up the conversation again.

“Did you get the chance to catch up with the wizarding news here in Sweden?” Bjorn inquired as he looked at Remus, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. Remus gave a deft nod, remembering the gruesome headlines.

“It’s terrible, what happened,” Remus replied sincerely, remembering the pictures that littered the paper. The mangled bodies plastered the pages, and a huge monster was pictured dead on the front with people poking and prodding it with wands.

“Those three nutters managed to unleash two very rabid cave trolls upon a small wizarding hamlet around Are, near the Aresjån River,” Bjorn recounted with more somberness that Remus had yet seen him express. He shook his head and chuckled as he said, “My grandfather gave me the pleasant job of dealing with the grieving relatives when they arrived at the Ministry.”

  
‘ _Intense dislike, to say the least, but giving him that assignment is cruel_ ,’ Remus reflected silently on what Bjorn had said. He was sure this wasn’t the first time that his grandfather had given him a difficult situation, hoping to rid him from his sight forever. Remus looked over at Bjorn, respecting the young man more now that he knew what he might tolerate from his grandfather.

“It sounds like the worst disaster since Black Noel,” Remus commented more to himself than Bjorn. Bjorn looked over at Remus with a genuinely keen interest in his eyes.

“I wasn’t alive then, but I’ve heard a couple of our older Aurors muttering something about Black Noel. That was during the Terror Years, wasn’t it?” Remus turned towards Bjorn, almost as reluctant to talk about the years of fear that petrified the wizarding world as his past history. He met Bjorn’s eager eyes, unsure of what to tell the youth. He’d heard of Black Noel, which received the front page in the Prophet when it happened. Remus vividly remembered the picture of the Swedish Minister of Magic’s body swinging limply by the wrists as he hung from a spire atop a church.

“It wasn’t a good time, and yes, it was one of the first and most notable autocracies outside of the English Isles and Ireland.” Remus carefully chose his words, deciding that was all he was going to say on the matter. ‘ _He’ll have to ask someone else_ ,’ Remus decided as he took a rather long swing of his butterbeer. ‘ _I’ll relive the past soon enough_.’

As Remus set down his nearly empty mug, Bjorn remained silent for several moments as his voice recharged with enthusiasm. “You’ve visited us at a good time of year. It’s going to be Walpurgis Night soon, which is a good time for all.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be here that long,” Remus answered hesitantly and without enthusiasm, sure that Bjorn already knew this.

“You’ll leave the next day, Walpurgis Day, but it’s Walpurgis Night that’s the real draw in Southern Sweden. It’s a great holiday to get a drink, toast to spring, and of course, enjoy a bonfire.” Bjorn raised his wineglass in the air as if giving a toast.

“I’m afraid I am probably not going to celebrate.” Remus finished his butterbeer after his tactful remark which he hoped had gotten the point across to Bjorn that he didn’t come to Sweden to celebrate anything, much less the coming of spring with a drink in his hand, gathered around some blazing fire with drunkards.

“Shame,” Bjorn replied as he finished his wine and pulled a purse from his pocket, “It’s a great time. A personal favorite for me.” Bjorn pulled out the Swedish equivalent of a galleon and several silver coins and placed them on the counter.

“Although that was a pleasant drink, I imagine after my grandfather’s drilling and my blabbering you’d like to get settled into your room.” Bjorn stood up, and Remus snatched up his suitcase before Bjorn could do so. Bjorn strode out towards the lobby, and Remus once again followed his host, who tipped his hat to one of the waitresses as he opened the door.

A gust of cold air met Remus as he stepped from the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant into the blistering wind that blew over the tiny town of Or. Or was a small hamlet that was nestled outside Stockholm. The clouds hung low, infusing their ominous mood into the landscape and sucking the color out of the buildings, leaving only bland hues tinged in shades of gray. The sky brooded with the tempest of an oncoming storm and was a far cry from the serene ceiling inside the Swedish Ministry. Remus pulled his thin robes tighter around him, silently cursing that they couldn’t keep out the bitter chill.

“Spring is coming, huh?” Remus shouted to Bjorn, who held his hat down on his head with one hand.

“The real spring won’t be here for a couple weeks after Walpurgis,” Bjorn hollered back to Remus as he motioned him to follow with his free hand. The pair fought against the thrashing winds that would strike from one side and whip back to hit from the other as they made their way down the street until they reached a three level building. Bjorn pushed open the black door that almost blew shut the moment it opened, and he held it as Remus darted inside out of the gale.

“Lovely weather,” Bjorn muttered as he slammed the door behind Remus. After brushing hair out of his face, Remus took a look at where they were. It was a quaintly decorated lobby with a couple cushioned wooden chairs and a voluptuous couch positioned around a glass-topped coffee table. There were some silk flowers in a vase set on the table, and the decorator seemed to have a thing for flowers because there were pastel roses in the wallpaper design, too. ‘ _A very Victorian feeling_ ,’ Remus mused as he studied the wood trimming on the walls.

The place was silent. The thick rose carpet seemed to absorb every sound. Remus noted that Bjorn had already strolled over to the desk with a wooden door behind it that sat in the far corner of the room. He rang a bell, and the gentle chiming echoed throughout the empty lobby. Eventually, the door opened and a portly woman that was probably in her fifties or sixties appeared at the desk. She had obviously chosen the decorations because the color of her dress matched the carpet perfectly.

“My dear! I dozed off.” The woman gave Bjorn a key as Remus made his way over to the desk. “I’m Mrs. Olofssondotter, the manager, and if you need anything at all, dear, just give the old, brass candlestick a tap of your wand, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Remus returned the woman’s warm smile as he followed Bjorn to another door on the opposite side of the room. Bjorn used the key to open the door and led Remus up a rickety staircase. The steps were so used that Remus could feel the indent where uncounted people had trod before him. They passed the first floor and proceeded to the second where Bjorn opened the door that read ‘Floor Two’ in Swedish. There was no carpet upstairs. Both of their footsteps echoed on the worn and scuffed wooden floor as Bjorn led Remus down the deserted landing.

“I take it there’s not much tourism,” Remus commented as he stared at the numbered rooms without hearing another sound.

“No. There’s a small group of wizards in town, but not a lot of visitors,” Bjorn commented. “Most guests stay in Stockholm near the Ministry.”

Bjorn reached door 223 at the end of the hallway. He then handed the key back to Remus who stowed it away with his wand. Bjorn gestured Remus into his room which had a bathroom attached to it and a little archway that led to a separate bedroom off the tiny sitting room. The sitting room, with its bare wooden floors, was sparsely furnished with a small wooden coffee table and two plush chairs that sat in front of a window. The chairs were decorated in a faded flower pattern and were most definitely used furniture that had seen considerable wear. Remus walked over and pulled back the mauve curtains of the window, looking through the thick, slightly warped glass onto the small, dreary streets of Or.

“It’ll take an hour at most to clear the Muggles out and away from the house. We’ll go there and sort out a couple details,” Bjorn informed Remus as he gave him a parting wave accompanied with his cheery smile that seemed to be the only thing bright in the room.

Bjorn shut the door and Remus set his suitcase down beside one of the chairs. The next several moments, he only stared around his adobe. He rubbed his head knowing that although he felt drained now, that feeling probably wasn’t going to change in the coming days. Bjorn’s chipper attitude had been a positive boost Remus didn’t realize he’d been getting until the man left.

‘ _The bedroom_ ,’ Remus thought as he stared at the archway that led into the tiny bedroom. He walked into the little room. It was just long and wide enough to fit a twin bed and a tiny nightstand beside it. Remus kept the drapes pulled over the window. He noted the tiny window was similar to the one in the sitting room. Then, he pulled down the thin green comforter that had lost all its plush because of the wear of time.

‘ _Lilacs_ ,’ Remus realized as he stared at the nightstand while he pulled down the plain, white sheets. He stopped and picked up the silken flowers from the dusty vase. He fingered them gently, somehow wishing they were real. Remus laid them down on the dresser as he took off his shoes and robe, crawled into bed, and determined to rest for a couple moments before Bjorn came back.

***

Cars and buses swirled down the busy avenues of downtown London, past apartments made of bricks the color of worn earth. A majority of the buildings had been refurbished, but along the narrow alleyways, the rending scars of the Second World War could be viewed. Music hummed from some open windows in the middle of the sweltering heat and some children stopped to splash around in a public fountain. A group of girls walked down the street as the children scuttled away giggling over a magazine with a cover of The Beatles on it. Across the city, horns honked and people bustled about in the hazy days of summer along the Thames.

However, a young boy no older than seven, with hair the color of warm sand, could have cared less about the world swirling around him. The streets were fascinating with all people clad in suits, brightly colored silks and such, but he liked the clothing his mother picked out for him well enough. Although, because of the heat, he wanted to take off the wool, mahogany jacket because the material made him itchy when he sweated.

The petite woman who walked beside her son resisted in a soft, melodic voice, “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.” The little boy looked up at his mother whose gray eyes were lost in a dreamy haze of years long forgotten. Indeed, she appeared to have stepped through a door of an English country house from the Victorian age. Her honey hair was pulled back in a tight bun that permitted several ringlets to flow beside her heart-shaped face.

She smiled down at her son and her face appeared as a flower bud blossoming into its potential beauty. “Therefore, ye soft pipes play on,” she continued as her son looked up at her with his eyes the color of the soft, brown shade under a willow tree in the summer.

“Not to the sensual ear,” here he paused and bit his lower lip as he scraped his memory for the words, “but more endeared,” the boy finished the line.

“Lovely!” The mother laughed like clear church bells chiming across open fields, calling everyone towards them. Indeed, many of the Muggles along the street shot glances at the peculiar woman dressed in a full-length cotton dress the color of lilacs blooming in the sun.

She turned and grinned amiably at her son, who was dressed in trousers to match his jacket. “You’re such a clever boy, Remmy.”

“You say it all the time,” the boy replied modestly for a seven-year-old but grinned in pleasure at his mother’s encouraging words.

“Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.” With those words which came out as naturally as a stream flows downhill, the pair turned the corner onto a narrow alley surrounded by dilapidated buildings. People rushing by on the streets took a brief second to question why such a finely dressed woman with her young son would be going down such an alleyway.

However, the pair soon came to a phone booth that looked like the phone hadn’t worked since the Second World War. She led her son inside and closed the door once both were jammed into the confined space. She dialed the numbers 6-2-4-4-2 as if only recalling an old friend’s phone number.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic Head Quarters. Please state your name and business,” the voice of a witch echoed throughout the booth as if she, too, was smashed into the tiny space.

“Evelyn Lupin and Remus Lupin here to retrieve Edouard Lupin for a picnic lunch,” Evelyn responded sweetly as the elevator descended underground, where the pair soon arrived at the gates to the Atrium: the grand entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

Remus had seen the halls before, but the vaulted ceilings crawling with glittering, golden symbols of long-forgotten languages across a canvas of sapphire blue always entranced him. He tilted his head directly back so much so, that it hurt his neck to gaze up at the ornate ceiling. Evelyn reached down and took her daydreaming son’s hand in her left one as they entered the jostling crowd that was comprised of Ministry workers and other visitors.

Evelyn hoisted the over-laden picnic basket in her left hand upon her shoulder as she used her now free hand to draw her wand from her right sleeve. The pair took their time being shuffled around by the crowd until they reached the security desk. Evelyn produced her wand and gave the clerk with a sagging face her brightest smile which had the effect of causing a warm glow to illuminate her features. However, the man didn’t seem phased or in a more pleasant mood as he handed her back her wand. She stashed it back in her sleeve as she readjusted her picnic basket with festive flowery cloth hanging out over the edges.

With the same bright smile that caused her cheeks to glow with more innate beauty than any rouge or powder makeup, she asked her young son who was staring ahead anxiously at the elevators, two words: “Race you?”

Remus’s eyes widened in excitement as he pulled away from his mother’s hand and dashed across the polished cherry floor towards the gilded elevator doors. Evelyn ran easily in her low heeled shoes and kept pace several strides behind her son. Remus cut through the crowd, bumping into various witches and wizards wearing long, flowing cloaks of velvet and silk, and Evelyn gave no heed to any of these important persons, either.

The door of the third elevator on the right opened and Remus bolted for the door just as people began to spill out. Evelyn jostled around by the masses because of her picnic basket, found a path for herself and arrived in the elevator just moments after Remus.

She laughed as she leaned against the back wall of the elevator with her son, who grinned up at her. “I beat you, mum.”

“Indeed,” she panted, but laughed merrily, more like a young schoolgirl than a mother. As the elevator filled with more witches and wizards, some cast looks at the woman whose hair had come loose as she raced her son in a very juvenile fashion across the Ministry Atrium.

The voice in the elevator announced when they reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Evelyn bent down and whispered in Remus’s ear with a playful grin, “Race you to dad’s office?”

As soon as the doors opened, Remus bolted out. Evelyn muttered, “Excuse me,” hastily several times as she sliced through the remaining people in the elevator. Barely two strides out of the elevator, she looked up and saw Remus charge head-on into an old wizard with a flowing, white beard.

“Albus,” Evelyn responded with as much dignity as possible considering her hair had come mostly undone. “Remus and I were just having a little race to Edouard’s office.”

Evelyn reached down and helped Remus up, immediately brushing off his clothes straightening out his hair. With a twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore replied, “I dare say, he should be just about finished.”

Evelyn gave Dumbledore her sunshine smile. “He says not one of you knows how to manage financial matters in this department.”

“And tell him that is why he is an accountant and not I,” Dumbledore replied cordially. “I’m going to be late for a luncheon, but have a nice day.”

“You too,” Evelyn answered in her clear, sweet voice as she waved goodbye. Remus hadn’t met the man many times, but he waved back too; his childish instincts told him that the man was good, especially if he was so nice to his mother. When Remus heard his mother’s skirts start to rustle, he turned to see her several strides ahead of him, and he ran forward to draw beside her again. They passed by three windows, which displayed a serene tropical beach with transparent, sparkling blue water and plants so luscious that one could hardly imagine they existed. Evelyn entered the door that led to the Auror offices that worked almost unceasingly whether it was storming or there was a heat wave. Evelyn politely waved to several of the people as she passed them, heading towards the very last desk in the corner of the room.

Evelyn walked directly behind her husband who was wearing a gray suit. He had draped the jacket over his chair and wore a midnight blue shirt underneath it. He ran his hand through his tawny hair cut above his ears, yet it hung lank and straight in the style worn by certain gentleman. Evelyn smirked admiringly as she watched her husband rummage through a small bundle of papers. “Edouard Lupin, I was under the impression that you were to picnic with a certain wife and child of yours.”

“Evey!” Edouard exclaimed as he jumped in his chair. He spun around and stared at his wife with her bedraggled hair and full, strawberry lips shaped in an amused smile. “I-I need more time.”

“Dad!” Remus protested after having stood obediently by his mother the entire time. Edouard’s lips turned up in a warm smile as he stared at his son who had the same, soft brown eyes he did. He patted the boy on the head before looking back up at Evelyn.

“These were going to be sent out,” Edouard muttered as he picked up some of the papers and waved them in Evelyn’s face. “I think,” Edouard murmured and then pulled his wife closer to him, pausing as if to say something drastically important.

In a soft voice, the way only a wife speaks to a husband, Evelyn put her mouth to Edouard’s ear and whispered, “I think you could use a break, Eddy.”

“I-,” Edouard muttered, feeling his mouth go dry for a moment. He closed his eyes and let out a long-repressed sigh. “I’ll gather these because they’re coming.”

Edouard stood up and pulled open a black leather briefcase where he stashed all the papers he'd been examining on his desk. He tapped it shut with his wand before dropping the wand in his pocket and hoisting the briefcase off his desk with his right hand.

Edouard flashed the pair a smile, and the lines and cares of work that lingered on his face fell off in an instant. There was something less stuffy and more youthful about the accountant when he walked side by side with his wife from the Auror offices with their little son plodding along behind them. With a flirty smile, Evelyn snatched her older husband’s hand as they reached the main hallway. Edouard smiled and a slight blush came over his face when she acted like a schoolgirl instead of a mother. Some of the people cast a glance or two at the woman dressed in an out of style Muggle dress and the wise respectable wizard whose judgment must have lapsed to marry such a woman.

However, no one gave the little boy a stare as he reluctantly walked behind his parents. Remus obediently entered the elevator behind the pair and stood in front of them as his mother whispered something in his father’s ear. He looked up as his father’s eyes would sparkle and then he would chuckle after almost everything his wife murmured to him. Remus frowned, shuffling his feet in boredom, hating when his parents ignored him.

As they walked across the polished cherry floor of the Grand Atrium, Remus ran into his parent’s locked hands and tried to wrestle them apart. In her soft, untroubled voice, Evelyn asked, “Remmy, what’s the matter?”

“I want you to swing me,” Remus pleaded as he looked up between his parents with his best puppy-dog stare. Evelyn laughed and took one of Remus’s hands while waiting for Edouard to take the other.

“He’s too old,” Edouard murmured, slightly put off that his youthful flirtation with Evelyn was over. He also became more keenly aware of the throng of people than either his wife or innocent son.

“Nonsense!” Evelyn declared as Remus grabbed his father’s left hand. Edouard let a slight smile creep across his face as Remus curled his legs up so he wouldn’t touch the ground as he and Evelyn swung their arms back and forth to mimic the motion of a swing. Across the Atrium and towards the exit fireplaces, the trio went; Remus suspended between both parents.

Edouard let go of his son’s hand to snatch a pinch of sparkling Floo Powder from the jar sitting above one of the polished fireplaces. Edouard threw the powder in as Evelyn gripped Remus’s hand and pushed him in behind his father before she too, stepped into the swirling green flames.

Edouard articulated each syllable of “Madame Grey’s” so that there would be no mistake where the three were going. With a swirl of neon-green light, the family found themselves in a very different fireplace. The stones that made up the fireplace looked as if they’d just been dug from a creek bed, dried, and cemented together into the wall. Evelyn stepped out first, Remus in hand, followed by Edouard, who set down his briefcase to dust off his suit. Evelyn fluffed the ash off her dress before patting down Remus.

The three were in a windowless storage room, only illuminated by the faint light of the fire. Boxes labeled with various kinds of teas were piled in the corner, and on the mantle above the fire sat a tiny teacup filled with Floo powder.

Pushing open the lone door into the room, Evelyn looked around the teashop to find it deserted. “Auntie Grey,” Evelyn called cheerfully as she stepped from the closet, unafraid of Muggles wondering how three strangers happened to materialize from the storage room.

Bustling out from another backroom, which was behind the oak counter covered with a lace table runner that served as a place to check out, came a short, slightly plump woman in her sixties. She was carrying a pot of hot water on a silver tray. She set it on the countertop and brushed several strands of her graying hair out of her rosy face. “Stop by for some tea?”

“No, Auntie, we’re going on a picnic,” Evelyn replied as she held up the basket to show it to her only magical relative.

“Take some tea then,” Grey offered enthusiastically as she went to get several wrapped bags out of their respective places on the shelf behind her, which was stacked with various types of teas in shiny, well-labeled boxes.

“We have lemonade. That’s more proper for picnics,” Evelyn pointed out as Remus tugged at his mother’s hand. He’d already spotted the grass fields beyond the sidewalk, and the aura of a lazy summer day called to him like every curious and playful child.

Edouard gave Evelyn’s aunt a nod of his head. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“You’re always welcome,” Grey responded as she beamed down at Remus, who shot her a small smile, knowing she was important to his mother, but his eyes quickly fixed themselves on the sunlit fields of grass that seemed to sparkle under the azure sky. Evelyn gave a brief wave to her aunt as Edouard opened the door for his wife and his son to exit first. The little bell above the glass door rang as Evelyn and Remus once again stepped out into the humid summer day.

However, it wasn’t the sweltering heat from the city that radiated up from the concrete. The sun beat down, hot but comforting, and the wildflowers in the fields beyond seemed to soak up the sunlight and send off their sweet perfume in return. The incense of the growing flowers in the greened summer grass hung heavy in the humid air as the threesome crossed directly from the door of the tea shop to the fields of flowers that were directly outside its door. Evelyn hiked up her skirt slightly with her free hand as she walked uphill in the grass the came to her knees.

“Remmy, go to that tree and save our spot!” Evelyn shouted as she pointed to an oak tree laden with thick green leaves that sat alone on the top of a little green knoll amidst the sea of wildflowers. Remus sprinted through the grass, dashing towards the distant tree.

Evelyn laughed with glee as she watched her little son race forward. “Run!” She shouted as Edouard put his arm around her shoulders. Sweat trickled down his forehead as the two of them began to leisurely stroll uphill towards the tree that Remus was already trying to climb.

“He’s got all your cheer,” Edouard remarked as he smiled down at his young wife. She flashed him her ever-present smile.

“What was wrong today?” Evelyn asked as she looked up into her husband’s calm eyes, the color of tilled earth. “You seemed so tense.”

“I think there’s some . . . fraud,” Edouard replied in a soft, terse voice. Evelyn waited patiently for him to continue as they kept strolling towards the shade of the oak. “Several of the Aurors complained that they weren’t receiving adequate pay and the notes Gringotts gives me don’t correspond with some of the numbers I’m figuring . . . Oh, Evey. It could be that money is getting pocketed by someone on the inside.”

She laughed and her voice echoed across the serene fields. “Let it go for today! You can find your thief tomorrow.” With that, she practically dragged her husband the remaining distance into the shade of the oak. Edouard went and sat by the tree, leaning up against it and setting the briefcase gently beside him. He closed his eyes with a sigh, letting the smells of the clean air and earth, relax him. Remus scrambled around on the lower branches, scraping off some bark when he moved.

“Remmy!” Evelyn called as she opened the basket and produced the sandwiches and the lemonade she’d charmed not to spill. Remus slid out of the tree. He came down on the side opposite his parents, landing in a patch of lilacs, which gave off a sweet smell when he fell into them. He plucked a couple flowers from the earth and brought them, roots and all, to his mother.

“For me?” Evelyn took the flowers from Remus. “What a sweet boy you are.”

“I’ll take note,” Edouard replied teasingly from where he sat, propped against the tree. “What type of flower?”

“Lilacs: very lovely ones.” Evelyn handed Remus a sandwich and tapped his glass of lemonade with her wand so that he could drink from it. She put the lilacs upon the basket as she went over to sit beside her husband. She poked Edouard, and he opened his eyes once again to eat his sandwich and sip his drink. Evelyn gave his hand a squeeze, which caused him to smile softly at his wife when he met her sparkling eyes the color of a warm, gray dawn in the summer. The day gradually wore, but time seemed not to move. Time passed slowly in that field during that hazy, summer day.

 

 


	2. Bad Reasons

**Bad Reasons**

  
He was running down the hallways, except the images skewed themselves to become something more horrible. They were carrying the people past in stretchers, but they weren’t strangers anymore. As he ran, he realized he knew almost every face they carried past. The young people weren’t just poor spectators anymore, but many of the students he’d taught.  
  
Remus shoved the door open, but instead of a hospital room, he was standing in the long hallway of Greger Asketorp. He ran down the hallway, trying to find the hospital room, and his footsteps rapped loudly on the floor until they drowned out all other sounds.  _Thud! Thud! Thud!_  
  
 _Thud! Thud! Thud!_  
  
Remus opened his eyes, wiping the sweat off his brow.  _‘A dream,’_  Remus realized as he noticed he was shaking. However, the thudding was still there, but he realized that it was only a knocking on his door. Remus scowled at himself for the fear the dream had aroused in him. He slowly stood up, stilled his shaking hands, and walked towards the door.

  
 _‘Bjorn is back,’_  Remus calmed himself as he opened the door. On the other side stood the lean youth, looking as clean and perky as before. He gave Remus his dazzling smile, which drew Remus away from the nightmare.

  
“Remus!” Bjorn exclaimed as he beckoned Remus to come with him. “The Muggles have left for a couple hours, and you can have the place to yourself. Well, with the exception that I’ll be there.”

“Splendid,” Remus replied unenthusiastically. Only now did he realize that he’d have to go and look at things he’d rather not see.  _‘Muggles?’_  Remus wondered as he mused over what Bjorn had told him.  _‘He stayed with Muggles?’_  
  
Bjorn led Remus back down into the lobby. Mrs. Olfssondotter was nowhere to be seen. Bjorn opened the door, which let another gust of frigid wind tear into Remus’s body. Remus reluctantly stepped out into the freezing weather, and he noted that it had gotten darker since he’d last been outside.  
  
“It’s not far,” Bjorn called over the wind. Remus bent his head down and followed the young man along the streets. Remus couldn’t tell where the house actually was, and he didn’t bother counting if it took three blocks or thirty to get there. With the icy wind tearing through the pair, it seemed it took an eternity for them to reach it.  
  
Remus slammed into Bjorn’s back and halted. “Sorry!” Remus’s apology was lost in the wind, but Bjorn didn’t seem to notice. He motioned Remus to follow him up a pair of stone steps. The steps were uneven, and gloomy honey mustard color curtains hung across the grimy windows. Even the bricks the house appeared as if even the rain hadn’t cleaned them in a decade. Overall, the place looked miserable, and Remus was stunned to see how impoverished and neglected the building appeared.  
  
 _‘I didn’t expect this,’_  Remus realized as Bjorn opened the weather-beaten door with chipping gray paint. Bjorn ushered Remus into the interior first, where a wave of musty smell struck his nose. Remus blinked to adjust to the gloom, and he tried to adjust to the damp smell that he could even taste. He tried in vain to keep out the damp chill, which seemed to settle in his bones the moment he walked into the room. He could hear the wind still gusting outside as it swept across the landscape. Remus pulled his robes closer to keep out the dampness. He looked for a fireplace, which was a common fixture in a wizard house, and to his shock, he didn’t find one.  
  
Remus walked over to a threadbare plaid chair, noticing that there was a stack of Muggle papers sitting beside it. He fingered the gray pages with their still pictures. His head rose and looked up to see that in the kitchen, beyond the sitting room, there were Muggle appliances, too.  
  
“You may want to go to the bedroom.” Remus turned around and remembered that Bjorn was there, too. Bjorn produced a rusty key and handed it to Remus. “I think that’s where most of the wizarding possessions are, but I haven’t been there yet. The Muggles just got his body from the room, although one of our agents came shortly after and locked the door after suspecting there were magical items in that room.”  
  
“You mentioned you cleared out Muggles.” Remus met Bjorn’s sapphire eyes, which had lost their carefree sparkle in the oppressing aura of the miserable house.  
  
“He registered as a wizard, but I think that’s the only contact with the wizarding world he ever had while here.” Bjorn’s answered frankly as he gestured around the depressing abode. “The Muggles, specifically the Roman Catholic Church, are going to bury him tomorrow. It seems he was involved with a small group of them while here.”  
  
“He cut himself off from the wizarding world,” Remus muttered to himself. He gazed around, hardly believing the truth himself.  _‘He left it all behind,’_  Remus thought, and he felt an unexpected twinge of anger.  
  
“Where’s the bedroom?” Remus asked as he gazed pensively at his feet. Bjorn went into the kitchen, which had a washing machine, too. Remus followed and looked at the electrical outlets and the appliances he’d read about in Muggle studies. A feeling of abandonment began to rise in his gut, even though he tried to suppress it.  
  
 _'What should I have expected?’_  Remus thought with a growing feeling of disdain as Bjorn led him to a door, almost completely hidden behind the refrigerator. Bjorn stood beside it, waiting for Remus to open the door with its chipping gray paint. Remus shoved the key below the brass handle and giggled it until he could feel the tumblers move. He gripped the worn handle and turned it slowly. Another assault of moldy air attacked his nose and made him gag for a second. Remus rubbed his eyes as he tried to adjust to this room, too. The gloom that ruled the house with an iron grip seemed to be the mightiest in this bedroom.  
  
The room had one window behind the twin bed that was made with a quilt, which appeared to be the newest thing in the entire house. Remus decided not to look at the bed, remembering that Bjorn had said they retrieved the body from it. Instead, he focused on the dusty, tiny nightstand with a couple candles sitting upon it. Many of them had burnt completely, but there was still one that hadn’t been completely used.  
  
Remus reached down and picked up the Muggle Bible below the nightstand. The pages had yellowed and many of them were earmarked from frequent reading. Remus placed it back down on the floor and opened the door to the side of the little nightstand. The murky inside hid everything inside the nightstand in darkness, and Remus stuck his hand in to retrieve what lay in the shadows. Immediately, his fingers curled around a thin, hard stick. He pulled out the ten-inch wand, which was covered in dust and had a dull wood form not being polished or used in decades.  
  
“Here.” Remus thrust the wand at Bjorn as he continued to rummage through the nightstand. Inside, he found the registration as a wizard of Sweden, a copy of  _The Prophet_  from March 15, 1979, and some spare galleons, sickles, and knuts. Remus took them out and handed the contents to Bjorn.  
  
“I don’t know if we’re supposed to take the wand,” Bjorn replied awkwardly. “It’s usually buried with the wizard when they die. Sometimes, the wand breaks when the wizard dies. This one didn’t because it probably hadn’t been used in such a long time.”  
  
“I don’t want it.” Remus’s voice was frank and cold. He had no interest in the wand. “Break it yourselves.”  
  
Remus gazed around the room, which was otherwise bare, except for another door. Remus went over to it and turned the knob, which promptly opened into a closet large enough for just one person to walk into. Remus pulled a tiny string that hit him in the face when he opened the door.  
  
A sickly glow from the Muggle light bulb filled the dingy closet. Remus gazed up at it for a couple seconds before looking around at the clothing, which was mostly covered in dust and worn so much that every garment had some patches in them. Remus felt his stomach turn, reminded slightly of his own wardrobe.  
  
He noticed that, throughout the entire closet, there were closed boxes, which had the same layer of dust on them as the items on the nightstand. Remus flicked off the light and shut the door, deciding he didn’t want to go through the boxes today. He had a rough idea of what might be in them, though.  
  
Bjorn remained standing, clean, fresh, and completely out of place in the shabby room. Remus looked at him, still holding the wand and papers. Bjorn reached into one of his pockets and fished out a folded mess of parchment.  
  
“About a year after he came, he drew up a will with one of our wizard notaries,” Bjorn explained as he unfolded the papers. Remus felt the blood drain from his face for a couple moments. “I need to read this to you, Remus. You’ll be able to collect what is yours after the funeral tomorrow.”  
  
“You can keep it all,” Remus replied stiffly. A strange numbness had descended upon his limbs, and talking was all he could manage.  
  
“I can’t. I have to read it, and you have to collect it. Then, do what you want.” Bjorn’s voice held no cheery tones as he opened the papers. Remus felt his throat constrict slightly as Bjorn scanned the papers before he began to read.  
  
“I, Edouard Jean Pierre Lupin, give my possessions and last wishes and requests as follows:  
  
To St. Joseph’s Catholic Church I bequeath my house, its furniture, appliances, and half of all my current Muggle money to help their ministries.  
  
To Mrs. Lena K. Nystroem and her family, I bequeath the quilts she gave me, and all my clothing, drapes, and the other half of all my Muggle money.  
  
To my son, Remus J. Lupin, I bequeath my Bible, any wizarding money, my wand, and all wizarding items contained in my closet or house.  
  
I, Edouard Jean Pierre Lupin also request to be buried in St. Joseph’s Catholic Church Cemetery and have a proper Christian burial. These here end the final requests and wishes of Edouard Jean Pierre Lupin.”  
  
A dizzying silence descended over the room as Bjorn finished reading. He took the papers and stuffed them back in the deep pockets of his suit. Remus stared past the wall as Bjorn fidgeted in the center of the dreary bedroom. Bjorn finally coughed loudly, which ended Remus’s trance.  
  
“Is that all?” Remus asked Bjorn in a stiff voice which was as frigid as steel.  
  
“Yes.” With Bjorn’s answer, Remus began to stride out of the room. Bjorn held out the wand and small bag of money to Remus.  
  
“Keep it,” was all Remus said as he left the room.  
  
  
****

On another summer day, stringent sunlight struck the cobblestones as Evelyn Lupin led her young son down the street. The heat hadn’t really lessened the next day after their picnic as Evelyn took her son to run errands in the sweltering heat that pervaded Diagon Alley.  
  
Evelyn was hauling several books under her one arm while she carried a couple bags filled with various items. She’d needed several plants and herbs, along with a new pair of robes and some ink. However, a trip to Diagon Alley was never complete without a trip to Flourish and Blott’s.  
  
“Mum,” Remus whined again as he tugged at the yellow patterned flower dress his mother wore. Little cream and peach flowers decorated the soft, sunshine yellow dress Evey chose today. She hummed to herself as she let a grin slide across her cheerful face.  
  
“Mummy is hungry, too,” Evelyn reminded Remus, knowing her little son last ate early in the morning. Evelyn led Remus to a table under a striped umbrella outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Evey set her packages down, and then told Remus, “Watch these while I get us a treat.”  
  
She left the boy there, swinging his legs over the edge of the wooden chair. Evey came back several moments later with several ice cream sundaes. One sundae was covered with caramel, and the other was overflowing with raspberries. As Evey walked back to the table with Remus, she didn’t notice a tall, dignified man with flowing, platinum blond hair coming towards her. When Evey turned her head and saw the man, it was too late. They collided, and the caramel sundae sloshed across his velvet, crimson cape and fine, black suit.  
  
“I am so sorry, sir!” Evey exclaimed as she pulled out her wand and muttered “ _Tergeo._ ” Despite that the splashes of ice cream and caramel were being siphoned away from his clothes, the pale, flawless face of the man gleamed livid with anger.  
  
However, Evenly didn’t seem to notice as she continued to apologize. “I did not even see you! I was being so clumsy. Is there anything I can do?”  
  
After these words, Evelyn let her large eyes meet the cold, icy blue eyes of the man that she’d just finished cleaning. “Who are you?” He asked her sharply as he stared down at her with a slightly upturned nose.  
  
“Evelyn Lupin and this is my son, Remus,” Evelyn replied as she gestured to little Remus, who had been watching the scene unfold. With his child instincts, Remus had felt the man was bad because he was staring at his mother like a piece of unwanted furniture.  
  
“Lupin did you say?” The man muttered, and a thoughtful look came over his face. His cold eyes then surveyed Remus. The boy bit his lower lip, unexpectedly afraid under the appraising stare. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lupin. Five galleons should cover the cost of your carelessness.”  
  
“Let me get them.” Evelyn went and sat the Sundays down in front of Remus as she dug to find her money. She counted out five galleons and handed them to the man. “I never properly caught your name,” Evelyn mentioned as she gave the man her sunny smile.  
  
“Abraxas Malfoy,” the man replied icily as he pocketed the money. He scanned Remus again, and a slight grin slid over his face. “You must be a bit provincial since you’ve never heard of me.”  
  
With those words of scorn, Abraxas Malfoy strode on his way to the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Evelyn alone with Remus. The boy felt better now that the man began walking away, but he stared at the caramel Sunday in disappointment.  
  
“You can have this one,” Evelyn said as she gave Remus the raspberry Sunday and took the ruined one for herself.  
  
“Why did you pay him after you helped him?” Remus asked as he looked across the table at his mother.  
  
“I was being polite. He seemed slightly put off even before I ran into him,” Evelyn remarked as she remembered the moment before they’d collided. The man had been brooding before she sloshed caramel on him, so Evelyn only thought she’d worsened his day.  
  
“He didn’t like you,” Remus pointed out before he began to eat his Sunday.  
  
“Not everyone does, Remmy,” Evelyn replied with a shrug. “Your father’s parents didn’t like me a lot because they said I was still too attached to my Muggle heritage. They came from this pureblood family in France and left during the Muggle war. I guess they thought it was below their son to marry a Muggle-born English girl.”  
  
“That’s not a good reason to not like you,” Remus commented with the simplicity of a child. Evey laughed at her young son’s innocence as she met his sable eyes.  
  
“It’s not a good reason, but people use bad reasons to make things right to them,” Evelyn explained. “But I want to finish my ice cream now, Remmy, and we need to get home.”  
  
The conversation was settled for the time being as the two continued to eat their ice cream that had already half melted in the midday heat. When all Evey had left was a pile of caramel and vanilla soup, she threw away her container and waited for Remus to finish. When they were both done, the pair headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron and away from Diagon Alley.  
  
“Hello,” Evey gave the bartender a cheery smile as she led Remus over to the fireplace. After a throw of Floo Powder, Evey led Remus through the flames and into the serene sitting room of their own house.  
  
The log cabin in which the Lupins lived was surrounded by pines and perched on the edge of quite Sherwood Forest. The area was very removed, and the modest-sized two-floor house was nestled safely in the undisturbed wood and only a short walk from a lake. The living room was connected to the kitchen and dining room, and all the rooms had the same oak floors. The living room had two windows, which had been left open to let the fresh smell of the pine forest enter the house. The couch, love seat, and plush armchair were the color of the evergreen pines that grew outside. The sitting had a vase of fresh lilacs and baby’s breath sitting on a coffee table, while a portrait of wildflowers swayed in the imaginary breeze.  
  
Evey sat the packages down and slid off her low heeled shoes. She walked over to the coffee table, sat down on the loveseat, and waited for Remus to come bounding over to her. When she sat on the loveseat, Remus always knew his mother was going to read something to him. She reached across the coffee table and picked up  _Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems_  by John Keats.  
  
“Let’s read before your father gets home.” She knew that her interest in Muggle clothing and literature displeased her in-laws, and occasionally Edouard had commented about her unusual tastes. However, Evey let it slid from her mind as she opened to one of the poems.  
  
“Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!” Evelyn began to read to Remus in her clear voice. Remus leaned upon his mother’s shoulder and relaxed, glad to listen to her voice. Ever since he could remember, she would read all sorts of things to him. She would read stories about heroes and books about nature. Yet, both their favorites were always the poems she would read so eloquently.  
  
“Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love’s eye!” Remus leaned his head against his mother’s arm and listened as she read to him the rest of the stanza. The thoughts of the man with icy eyes faded from his mind as he listened to his mother’s voice.  
  
“With every morn, their love grew tenderer. With every eve deeper and tenderer still; he might not in house, field, or garden stir, but her full shape would all his seeing fill.” Evelyn’s melodic voice echoed throughout the house as she continued to read the poetry.  
  
Her tone rose and fell with emotion as she read the verses. Remus felt his eyes grow heavy as he leaned against her and simply listened to her voice. This poem was long, but Remus was old enough to grasp the meaning of the poem. However, the part that Evelyn began to read still bothered him.  
  
  
“These brethren having found by many signs  
  
What love Lorenzo for their sister had,  
  
And how she lov’d him too, each unconfines  
  
His bitter thoughts to other, well nigh mad  
  
That he, the servant of their trade designs,  
  
Should in their sister’s love be blithe and glad,  
  
When ’twas their plan to coax her by degrees  
  
To some high noble and his olive-trees.”  
  
“Mum,” Remus muttered. Evelyn stopped reading and looked down at her sleepy son. “I still don’t think that her brothers were right. What did Lorenzo do wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” Evelyn replied gently. She ran her ivory fingers through Remus’s sandy hair. “They were just using bad reasons to justify themselves, Remus. People have always done it.”  
  
“I don’t ever want to use a bad reason like those men,” Remus mumbled into his mum’s arm. A tender smile crept across Evey’s full lips as she pulled her little son towards her body.  
  
At that moment, Evelyn paused and looked away from Remus because there was a green sparkle in the flames. A moment later, a frazzled Edouard Lupin stepped into the room. He had his briefcase with him, and his eyes darted anxiously around. When he saw his wife and son together, though, the lines on his face relaxed for a second.  
  
“You look stressed,” Evelyn commented as she gestured to the couch. “Come sit with us.”  
  
“Evey, I can’t do that right now. There’s a problem, and I’ve found out someone on the inside of the Ministry is embezzling funds. They’ve managed to get pull them out of the funds for auror pay and training. They’re putting them somewhere else, and I’ve got the list narrowed to less than a dozen people who could do this.” Edouard burst and rambled to his wife the information that he’d kept inside all day as he sifted through more papers.  
  
“What are you going to do about it?” Evey asked as she put down her book. Edouard met her eyes, then looked away from a second.  
  
“I’m going to go away from a couple weeks and figure this out. I’ll write occasionally,” Edouard told his wife. Evey frowned for a second as she thought about what her husband had said.  
  
“Why?” Remus asked as he tried to understand what his father had said. His childhood mind didn’t comprehend embezzlement and the implications it could have when someone inside the ministry was responsible.  
  
“It’s complicated,” Edouard began hesitantly, not sure how to explain it all to his son. “People . . . might come and find me, and I need to work a lot.”  
  
Evey bit her lower lip as her brow furrowed in thought. “Yes, you probably should go, if there’s danger.”  
  
“I think there could be,” Edouard replied softly as he walked over and embraced his wife and then his son. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. I’d prefer if you keep the fire out and don’t leave the house.”  
  
“I’ll put some charms around it tomorrow,” Evey told Edouard. Then, she gave him her enormous, beaming smile as she said, “You’ll fix it, Eddy. Just go, we’ll be fine.”  
  
*****

The pair had made their way silently back to the little room above the streets of Or. Night had descended on the little hamlet rather quickly, and Remus found himself once again on the deserted landing in front of door 223.  
  
After the entire walk back to the frumpy, little hotel in silence, Bjorn finally spoke. “I’ll be by early, say, eight, and the funeral is at nine.”  
  
Remus responded with a deft nod as he reached out and turned the knob. He heard Bjorn’s footfalls growing dimmer as he headed away from him. Finally, Bjorn Asketorp disappeared down the stairs and left the abandoned wing behind.  
  
Remus wearily walked into the dark sitting room and shut the door. The sound of the door shutting echoed throughout the deserted landing. He stood in the suffocating darkness for a second before pulling out his wand and muttering, “ _Lumos._ ”  
  
The silvery light flickered around the room and caught a pair of glowing eyes in the doorway to the bedroom. Remus jumped at the shock, and almost fell backward over the chair. After he recovered himself, he gave the large dog sitting in the bedroom door his most disapproving look.  
  
  
“What are you doing here?” Remus demanded.  _‘It’s just Sirius,_ ’ Remus thought and scolded himself as he realized he’d let Sirius frighten him like that. However, the dog didn’t reply as he sat there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.  
  
“I hope you realize there’s Ministry personal with me,” Remus lectured the dog. Being as Sirius just continued to sit in the doorway, Remus appeared to just be talking to himself. “If you use magic here, they could detect it. I hope you were clever enough not to apparate into the country. They would’ve detected you passing through the magical barrier around their country.”  
  
The dog twitched, and in moments, had changed into a lean, scraggly man Sirius was still about a head taller than Remus was, and the two appeared years older than they really were. Sirius had opted not to wear robes and dressed something like a homeless man, but that wasn’t too far from the truth of his situation. The navy jacket that appeared to have been worn through a war covered a dull gray shirt underneath. His jeans with patched knees hung loosely on his slightly emaciated form, and he’d let his beard and hair grow.  
  
 _‘He still looks haggard,’_  Remus noted as he eyed his old friend up. Sirius stretched, yet his lips twitched at the edges with slight amusement.  
  
“You really think I would apparate in?” he asked. Remus shrugged as he walked past Sirius into the bedroom. He was too exhausted for a shower tonight and was glad to find that he could just fall into the bed.  
  
Sirius walked around the frumpy sitting room for a few moments. “I got news that you slipped out of the country. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”  
  
Remus paused in his process of throwing his robe and shirt on the floor. “Are you sure no one saw you?”  
  
“I rode a boat, and it took bloody forever,” Sirius grumbled. He plopped down on the threadbare chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “I stowed aboard as a dog, and it was a Muggle boat. I think I’m better off here for a while, anyway.”  
  
“They’ve found you?” Remus inquired sharply. He locked Sirius’s eyes, trying to read if he was in real danger of being discovered.  
  
“They’ve got a couple decent people in their little hunting party,” Sirius commented. “There’s this guy named Shacklebolt and my cousin’s little daughter.”  
  
“Who?” Remus asked as he tried to imagine any other member of the Black family as an auror.  
  
“Andy’s girl,” Sirius replied casually as he stood up. He hauled the other chair over and put the two chairs so that they were facing each other. He studied the space that he’d made with the two seats and gave a nod of approval.  
  
“You’ll just have to stay hidden while Bjorn is around,” Remus told Sirius as he went back to undressing.  
  
“I was going to go with you tomorrow.” Remus shot a sharp glance at Sirius, who hastily added, “but as a dog.”  
  
“And Bjorn would ask how I got a dog,” Remus retorted as he climbed into bed.  _‘He should’ve stayed in England,’_  Remus thought.  _‘But then again, that wouldn’t be Sirius, hiding away somewhere.’_  
  
“Tell him the room came with one,” Sirius quipped. With that last word, he changed and leaped into the little space he’d created for himself. Remus shook his head, partly annoyed and grateful. He murmured, “ _Nox_ ,” and then slid into the bed to rid himself of the day’s weariness.


	3. Between Father and Son

**Between Father and Son**

  
The last rays of the sunlight hung on the fringes of the lush leaves. The sun set the deep greens ablaze, but the rich hues in the leaves turned the colors of the beautiful sunset into a mockery. Instead of the vivid pinks that now streaked the horizon, the pine needles each looked like daggers with dried blood on them. The clouds that crept in were tinted a brilliant gold that even Midas would envy. However, as that brilliant hue became warped and changed a muddy brown when it touched each leaf of oak, maple, and birch.  
  
Remus Lupin sat at the window, gazing out into the darkening forest under the canopy of trees. It had been two weeks since he’d been outdoors. He rested his head against the windowpane, wishing he could play in the forest he loved so dearly.

It had been two weeks since he’d seen his father. His mother scanned the two letters that his father had written, but she’d selected only parts of them to read out loud to him. Evey realized that, even though Edouard didn’t say much, he was anxious. About what, she didn’t quite understand herself, but she knew powerful people were involved with this scandal.  
  
However, to Remus, this meant little. The young boy only realized that a magical barrier around their house kept him from being outdoors during the long summer days. Evey tried to keep him interested, but after the first week, the confinement put both of them in surly moods.  
  
That was why, tonight, Evey decided she would do something special.  
  
She walked from the kitchen, carrying the same over-laden picnic basket that she used several weeks ago. However, she wore her honey chestnut hair down in long tresses today because of the cooler evening. Also, she wore another one of her Victorian-style dresses, but this one was a vivid rose pink. It rustled when she walked and was one of Evey’s personal favorites. Her aunt had embroidered lilacs and roses into her skirt, and they were heavily clustered at the bottom. It was a beautiful work with long sleeves, yet, it was made of a sheer material that was wearable in the summer.  
  
“Remmy,” Evey called to her son. He gave her a bored stare as he turned from the window. Instantly, his eyes widened, and his face lit up as he saw the picnic basket she carried on her arm.  
  
Evey laughed as she tucked her silky hair behind her ears. “Really?” Remus asked anxiously as he ran towards the door. Evey nodded, and joy flushed her features. She knew exactly how her son felt. Being cooped up in the house suited neither of them, and she drew her wand as she walked towards the door.  
  
“We’re going to go down by the lake,” Evey announced as she disarmed the spells around the house. She rushed Remus outside and put the girdle of spells back so no one could slip in, hide, and wait for them to return. Evey nodded her contentment, deciding the pair wouldn’t be caught unaware while they enjoyed the summer evening.  
  
Remus sprinted through the trees, dashing at full speed towards the lake. He wove between the trunks that towered like pillars of stone under the ceiling of leaves. “Don’t go too far!” Evey shouted after Remus. Her son slowed and waited for his mother patiently by one of the trees.  
  
Evey and Remus reached the lake together that summer night. The thick air carried that summer dampness and humidity even into the evening. Water skimmers darted across the surface of the teal lake. They left ripples that spread out as each of their little feet touched. The last rays of the run in the sky reflect across the surface of the water as misquotes buzzed over the placid surface. Bats swooped down from the sky in bursts of energy to catch the flitting insects for a meal.  
  
Evey threw the checkered blanket across the thick swath of grass beside the rushes. Remus went up to the water and pitched a couple stones across the surface.  
  
 _Splash, splash, splash, plunk!_  
  
They would skip and disturb the insects and then sink below the surface to be buried forever beneath the water and muck.  
  
“Remmy,” she called gently, and her voice pierced the quiet calm of the humid, summer evening. Remus obediently came to his mother, who offered him a sandwich. The two ate in silence as Remus shoved his food into his mouth, eager to go play by the lake again.  
  
Evey finished her drink as Remus left the blanket and ran back towards the lake. Her warm smile crossed her full, strawberry lips as she gazed at her son skipping rocks.  
  
 _Splash, splash, splash, plunk!_  
  
Remus lent down into the rushes and dove to scoop a toad up into his palms. He carefully held the animal as he made his way back over to Evey, who remained on the blanket.  
  
“Mum,” Remus exclaimed as he held out his hands, which gently held the wart covered toad. Evey chuckled as she ran her index and middle finger along the toad’s bumpy back.

“He probably wants to go back to the water,” Evey told her son after they both had studied the little amphibian. Remus nodded gravely as he went and placed the toad back into the mud. Evey sighed and took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. She leaned back onto the blanket and propped her head up on her arms. She let her eyes flicker shut after staring at the underside of the trees, which gradually darkened the forest, and the light was further drained from the sky.  
  
As she dozed in that relaxing state between consciousness and sleep, Evey could hear Remus playing by the pond. She would hear a splash and a giggle occasionally, which comforted her heart. The sounds of her happy son echoed into her subconscious and relaxed her into a state of lethargy. Occasionally, she would hear a sound behind her in the woods, and those kept her from drifting too far into her dreams.  
  
“Mum!” Remus exclaimed and interrupted Evey’s rest. “Come and play!"

Evey rose from her blanket, feeling warm and rested, and met her young son by the lake. By now, all the light had drained from the east, but a gentle blue still lingered in the west of the sky. Over the treetops rose a silvery moon that was reflected in the darkening blue water. The lake took on the deeper shades of night that crept into the skies. Several stars winked from their reflections in the glassy water.  
  
“You’re messy,” Evey lightly scolded her son. Remus obviously had run into the water because his pants were soaked up to his knees. He stained his blue T-shirt and gray pants with thick smears of mud where he’d fallen down. As Evey examined her son, she picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake.  
  
 _Splash, splash, splash, splash, plunk!_  
  
It skipped four times before sinking with a plop below the surface.  
  
“Good throw,” Remus said as he threw a rock, which skipped only three times and sank.  
  
 _Splash, splash, splash, plunk!_  
  
Evey reached up and grasped one of the little fireflies that blinked fluorescent green. She let it run across her hand while it illuminated her palm. She held it up for Remus to see, and the bug scuttled to the edge of her palm, spread its black wings, and flew away into the darkness. By now, the night had thoroughly descended upon the forest, and a swollen moon hung over the horizon.  
  
“Look!” Remus shouted as he reached down and scooped up one of the fireflies into his hand. As he grasped it, the little insect’s wing was caught in his hand. Remus looked down at it as it skidded across his palm, trying to fly with the maimed side of its body. As the insect leaped into the air, it faltered and fell into the water. The creature struggled pathetically for a moment before it sunk beneath the surface like the rocks.

“I . . .” Remus muttered as he watched the little animal’s silent death. The crickets seemed to lament it as they chirped their evening song from the rushes. The swollen moon made no reply as it hung wordlessly in the sky like an elaborate wall decoration among the stars.  
  
“I’ll catch another one,” Evey reassured her son as she stretched out her ivory arms to grasp another firefly. As she went to touch it, crackling and rustling in the dense forest behind her made her pause. She turned towards the wood, which was cloaked in a shroud of darkness under the trees. The forest, while stained with patches of sun and inviting during the daylight, seemed haunted in the darkness. The silver light of the full moon cut silver slivers through the dense canopy into the undergrowth.  
  
Evey peered into the dark woods, trying to make out anything in the patches of light. She stared into the dense forest, trying to catch any movement because the sound had been loud. It frightened her, and she remembered her husband’s warning. “Remmy, let’s go home,” Evey muttered as she clutched her son’s shoulder.  
  
“Stay by the lake,” Evey told her son as she knelt down and folded up the blanket. Evey looked up, after shoving her blanket into the basket, into the ebony vastness of the forest. Her eyes fell upon a patch of silver, but it rippled and moved. Evey then found the pair of glowing, yellow eyes that went with the wolf gazing hungrily back at her.  
  
“Remus! Run!”  
  
Evey’s hand darted for her wand, but the creature leaped in a blur of gray fur. It struck her. Evey lay stunned after she collapsed under the weight of the creature. Its putrid breath invaded her nostrils, and she stared up into the slobbering mouth and glowing eyes. As it stood on her, its claws dug into her soft flesh.  
  
“Ah!” Evey moaned in pain, screeching for help as she felt her death approaching. Then, the creature shifted its head in another direction and leaped off Evey as easily as it had attacked her. Something more succulent had caught the wolf’s attention.  
  
With blood gushing from several scratches, Evey rolled onto her side. She struggled to her feet and looked for the wolf. She saw it, bounding across the grass by the lake, heading once again for the forest. Yet, Remus had a head start and sprinted for his life ahead of the drooling creature with eyes like yellow pits of flame.  
  
As Remus approached the tree line, he paused for a moment and looked back. Evey’s heart stopped beating as she met her son’s soft, sable eyes. He paused to find her. The creature easily made up the distance between himself and the child.  
  
It lunged.  
  
Evey watched as the monster bit into her son’s arm. It dragged him down as blood poured from the wound, mingling with the monster’s saliva. Evey knew what it was. She might have cried, but she drew her wand without thinking. She now dashed towards the monster that yanked her screaming child towards the lake again.  
  
“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” Evey hurtled herself forward to grab her son as the creature froze, but the spell would not work completely against it. She tugged her child towards her, but the teeth still held Remus’s arm. He hollered in agony, which sliced open the calm night like a knife.  
  
The child’s screams also seemed to reawaken the fiery bloodlust in the creature. He renewed his hold on the child’s arm. Evey grunted, and her eyes met the creature’s hungry eyes as she cast the spell so many times that the forest echoed with her cries.  
  
She wrenched Remus free, but he moaned in agony and began to cry as Evey struggled away from the beast. The creature roused itself easily from the barrage of Evey’s spells, and it focused once again on its escaping prey. Now, it’s beastly anger flared against the woman, too, as it lunged towards the pair.  
  
It leaped for her neck, but Evey moved. The creature’s claws slashed at her, cutting her face and arms. She lay sprawled on the ground with Remus clutched in her arms. The beast hunched on top of the pair with a mouth full of Evey’s honey locks. It tugged and assumed it had bitten flesh. Evey jerked away, trying to escape.  
  
The mother’s scream now split the night, too, as the wolf yanked half of her hair free. Pieces of bloody scalp trailed it, but Evey managed to tug away from the monster. It stood, stunned, trying to comprehend what it had bitten.  
  
Evey dashed towards the forest as blood began to drip onto her left eyelid. It soon slid into her eye, obscuring part of her vision. As the monster saw its quarry escaping, it let out a howl that almost stopped Evey from dashing away. The sound curdled her blood, but she kept racing towards the tree line. It lunged again with the speed that only a predator can master.  
  
“ _Confundo! Confundo!_ ” Evey struck the creature with one hand as she held Remus with the other. The creature pinned them to the ground, but Evey kept throwing charms at it. The creature soon didn’t have enough sense to do further harm, but it clawed into Evey’s dress. The sharp talons dug into her soft skin and into Remus, whom Evey tried desperately to shield with her own body.  
  
“ _Impedimenta!_ ” It was a last effort, and the dazed wolf flew off the pair. Evey, unable to see in one eye, managed to stand.  
  
“ _Impedimenta!_ ” The creature hurtled towards the edge of the lake. Determination, greater than the yellow hunger in the wolf’s eyes, gleamed forth like a star spending its last energy in Evey’s eyes. She stared into the horrid animal’s face as she shrieked, “ _Impedimenta!_ ”  
  
The spell, made with the greatest of efforts, flung the animal into the middle of the lake. The water seemed to quench the beast’s anger as it yelped and began to paddle toward the opposite shore.  
  
With all her energy spent, Evey cradled Remus and stumbled into the foreboding forest. The trees loomed like tall giants swaying in a great wind. The earth moved with ruptures under her feet as she searched for her home. The patches of moonlight illuminated everything they touched like a glaring spotlight. She would pass into the unbearable light, and then, into utter darkness for a few more moments. Spots of color exploded in front of her good eye.  
  
When she reached the house, she wasn’t aware she was still stumbling onwards. She didn’t have enough strength to disarm the magical barrier she put up earlier. Remus moaned as Evey groped for her doorknob. They collided with the barrier and sailed backward.  
  
Evey hit the tree, which finished her valiant stand. She collapsed across the ground with Remus still clutched in her arms. As she gazed up with one good eye, the image of the full moon filled her mind.  
  
*****

The clouds descended during the night and now created a low ceiling over the world. Their gray presence pressed down on the earth, threatening to suffocate anything living there. During the dreary night, it drizzled lightly on the dormant earth. This meager attempt on the part of the rain to revive the land fell far short of its goal; the earth remained unshakably in the grip of winter in the little hamlet of Or.  
  
After the little sprinkling from those oppressive clouds, the little mist that did come to earth froze instantly in the climate. People watched their feet solemnly as they trekked through the mud to the open gravesite. Each blade of grass remained encased in a coat of frost that broke as people made their way through the cemetery.  
  
Only a handful of souls made the journey to St. Joseph’s Cemetery on that day. The biting sting the wind possessed the day before evolved into one constant, frigid temperature. Many of the people that stood close to the grave wrapped themselves in long, woolen trench coats. The priest, however, wore a sober black robe that touched the frozen earth. Standing at the back of the crowd, and trying to be ignored, stood two figures. Behind a nearby headstone crouched a jet-black dog.  
  
Bjorn donned a flowing, black robe for the occasion. He wore his ebony, velvet Bowler hat, which did little to keep out the chill that followed the bitter winds. Remus wore the same tattered, gray robes. The miserably thin pieces of clothing did little to stop the biting air from attacking Remus’s very bones.  
  
“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” the priest began to chant the last words of the ceremony. Remus stuffed his hands into the narrow pockets of his robes, trying to find some warmth.  _‘This is almost over,’_  he reassured himself.  
  
“We commend this body to the earth until the Day of Judgement,” the priest’s words echoed across the silent cemetery. Everyone there attended the pathetic little service, where the priest struggled to scrap together a message even ten minutes long on Edouard Lupin.  _‘They knew so little about him,’_  Remus had thought as he fixed a stony stare on the balding priest at the gravesite.  
  
“We are ashes and to ashes, we return,” the priest solemnly proclaimed as he bowed his head. Several men dressed in black suits came forwards and lowered the coffin into the hole that led six feet into the frozen ground.  
  
No one wept; the wind hushed as if to accent the silence. No birds sang as the clutches of winter gripped the earth.  _‘He got his wish to be forgotten,’_  Remus mused as he watched the Muggles leave the side of the grave. They passed by the two wizards without a glance as they eagerly sought the warmth of cars and houses.  
  
Despite everything, Remus remained transfixed to the spot. The hole in the ground entranced him. Maybe the cold seeped into his bones and paralyzed him to stare until a single memory resurfaced.  _‘They died that day,’_  Remus realized as he gazed at images that flickered through from the past.  
  
******

The boy woke up.  
  
The white room, which smelled of pungent potions, confused him.  
  
The voices that floated from somewhere beyond his field of vision were unfamiliar.  
  
“A little more. Make sure the skin is healing. Cut the rest of the hair.”  
  
“Treat those scratches. They might have some infection in them. No bites?” Another voice floated up and joined the first. Remus gradually began to recognize each of the male voices.  
  
“None,” the first man replied. Remus lay and stared up at the white tiles. Clouds enveloped his mind, and he only listened to the two men. It was so hard to think.  
  
“Amazing. The boy was horribly wounded.” At that comment, Remus frowned and looked down at himself. A white bandaged covered his arm, and when he moved it, he felt a terrible stab of pain.  
  
The stinging, horrible pain revived a vivid image of flashing white teeth. Remus moaned, and a white curtain beside him swooshed away to reveal a tall man in white robes.  
  
“Lay down.” It was the voice of the first man. He went over to Remus and tried to ease him back onto the pillow. “The boy might need more of that painkiller. I hope you made a strong batch.”  
  
“I’ll get his father,” the second man replied as he strode out of the room. As the first man tried to soothe Remus, the boy’s eyes strayed to the other side of the curtain. On the other side of the linen barrier stood another bed. A figure, the entire head wrapped in bandages, lay motionless.  
  
When he saw her face, he knew.  
  
“Mum!” Remus shrieked, forgetting the pain in his arm. He ignored the man in robes and dodged him. He scampered across the room in a little white nightgown towards the prone form of Evelyn Lupin.  
  
“You need to lay down!” The healer had shouted at Remus; Remus ignored the irritated voice of that man. He gazed only at the ashen face before him. Gouges lined the one side of her face, and her golden locks lay scattered on the floor. Sterile, white bandages encased the area where those honey locks used to grow.  
  
“Mum,” Remus whimpered as he tugged Evelyn’s hand. Her arms remained shrouded in bandages. Instead of a fair dress, she wore a simple, white dressing gown.  
  
Tears began to seep into Remus’s eyes. He didn’t remember much, but as he saw his mother, he understood. He knew she suffered. In his heart, Remus knew part of her died. The full lips withered like a wilted flower. The inner sunlight she possessed seemed completely faded from her figure that had the look of a corpse about it. Yet, her chest rose slowly, and Remus knew she lived as he saw the sheets move with her slow breathing.  
  
“Remus.”  
  
The raspy voice sounded foreign to the boy for a moment. He turned, eyes already swelling with tears, and looked up into the haggard face of his father.  
  
“He needs to rest,” one of the men insisted. Edouard shook his head grimly.  
  
“I need to talk to my son. Leave.” Edouard’s words left nothing to be discussed. The two men stared at each other helplessly before leaving the room.  
  
“Mum?” Remus asked as he looked up into the careworn face of his father. His father’s gentle eyes stared back at him red and bloodshot. The hair on his head appeared to have grown grayer and thinner since Remus saw him two weeks ago. The age and cares of a man a decade his senior now etched themselves into Edouard’s face.  
  
“What . . .”  
  
Remus’s question died on his lips. The pair of sable eyes met. No amusement or gentle caring lingered in his father’s eyes. Weariness consumed them, but behind that weariness, another emotion Remus never experienced before surfaced. It was from his own father that Remus saw that look of disgust. That look of weary loathing etched itself into the young boy’s mind.  
  
Edouard then looked up at Evelyn. That same look remained in his eyes as he stared down at his battered wife. “Remus, what did you do?”  
  
“I-I don’t remember,” Remus whimpered. Tears streamed down his face, etching little rivulets on his cheeks. As more tears flowed, the tracks they followed became creeks and then rivers.  
  
“She won’t be okay,” Edouard muttered. If Remus had looked, he would have seen several tears cascade down the lined face of his beaten father. Edouard then took a set of papers from his pocket. He drew his wand and lit them on fire, and they slowly disintegrated to ashes. After gazing quietly at his wife, Edouard whipped his eyes and addressed his sobbing son.  
  
“You’re not going to be okay, either,” his father told him frankly. He stood behind his son as they both gazed at the prostrate form of the unconscious Evelyn. “Be strong. For her.”  
  
“I-I can’t,” Remus blubbered as he gazed down at the strangely almost lifeless form on the white sheets. He knew, in the deepest part of his gut, that she would never laugh the same or smile like the summer sun again.  
  
In the deepest part of his childish heart, Remus realized that his father labeled him ‘bad.’ It would be a while before he loathed how his father thought of him as a burden. It would be years before the biting accusations and falling out between the two. It would be decades before Remus carried the cold feelings begun that day around with him.  
  
Between the two, at that moment, a rift opened. An understanding occurred between the silent father and his wounded son. Both knew that innocence ended that day. They both realized, on different levels, that that prostate form signified the end of the close bond they once had.  
  
Edouard held the blame, and placed it on his son, too.


End file.
